


Fifth year

by Esti7310



Series: Carry On countdown fics [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: (or so baz thinks), M/M, Unrequited Crush, for the carry on countdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8641261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esti7310/pseuds/Esti7310
Summary: Simon Snow won't leave Baz alone, and it's driving him crazy... but maybe not for the reason he always thought. This is for day two of the Carry On countdown.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello! I wrote this for the second day of the Carry On countdown, for the fifth year prompt (all the prompts are on carryon-countdown on tumblr if you want to participate!). And oops, it got kinda angsty. But it's fifth year snowbaz, so really, what can you expect? Anyway. I hope you like it!

Two weeks into my fifth year at Watford, and Snow is already on my case.

I swear, it’s even worse than last year. This imbecile apparently has nothing better to do now than trail me, even with the piles of homework we’re getting this year. Every time I turn a corner, Snow’s there, and he’s usually watching me. At this point, I’m used to being around him, but this is different. It’s  _ constant.  _ He used to avoid me, and now he’s always keeping tabs on me. Always.

The only time alone I’ve been getting in the dorm has been right after meals, because I eat fast and he eats two of everything and then socializes with half the school. So I have the room to myself now, but he’ll be here any minute, and it’ll be back to cold sneers and glares. 

I know I have to hunt today. Snow’s been staying up late recently, so it’s been two days, and I’m starting to feel restless. I can’t risk skipping again. I’ll just have to wait for Snow to be asleep, even if that takes hours. Hunting isn’t optional, but I can sacrifice a little sleep here and there.

The door bangs open suddenly, and Snow stomps in. He always has to come in with a bang. 

“Baz,” he says, dumping his stuff on his bed. I don’t look at him.

“Snow.”

“What are you doing?” He walks over and stands uncomfortably close to me, looking over my shoulder. 

“Star chart, Snow.”

He just grunts. He seems satisfied that I’m not drawing up a plan to kill him, and I watch out of the corner of my eye as he shrugs on a school sweatshirt. It’s something new, green and gray with some pattern on the back that I don’t see until he turns away from me. 

“Watford Lacrosse?” I ask, reading the lettering. “What, you going out for the team?”

“It’s Agatha’s,” he says, pulling on his shoes. “There’s a match tonight, I told her I’d watch.”

“Wellbelove?”

“Agatha Wellbelove,” says Snow, glaring at me. “Got a problem?”

“I couldn’t care less, Snow,” I shoot back, turning to my homework. 

“Good,” he says. He waits for a moment, and I ignore his stare until he bangs out of the room. 

So Snow and Wellbelove. He didn’t say they were together, but he has her sweatshirt, and they’ve been friends for a while, and I’ve definitely seen him staring at her in class. I can’t say I’m surprised – Wellbelove’s undeniably gorgeous, and powerful, too – or at least, politically powerful. Not so much in terms of magic, but maybe Snow’s tendency to explode and her mediocre magic would balance out. 

Whatever’s going on, it has a benefit for me – now that Snow’s gone, I can hunt now instead of tonight. I pull on my football sweatshirt and hurry downstairs, ready to cross the grounds and finally eat. 

Of course, since nothing goes my way, I run into Niall at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Baz,” he says, grinning. “Where you heading?”

“Football pitch,” I invent, and immediately hate myself for it. I didn’t have a backup story, and the lacrosse game is on my mind. 

“You’re going to watch lacrosse?” he asks. “My sister’s playing.” Apparently he thinks we’re talking now, because he’s started walking towards the pitch, and I don’t really have a choice, so I follow him. 

“I needed a homework break. Thought I’d look in on the game,” I say.

“Cool. They look good this year, and my sister’s a starter. She and Wellbelove are the top scorers, apparently.”

“That’s good.”

Niall walks next to me in silence while I try to figure out how to get away from him. It’s a short walk over to the pitch, and the girls are still warming up when we get there. I spot Snow immediately, standing on the other end of the pitch by the fence, the setting sun catching in his bronze curls. He’s got his eyes on Wellbelove, smiling a little bit as he watches her jog down the grass. Niall and I stay at a bit of a distance. The team huddles together on their end, and then they break away and jog towards the bench. Agatha keeps going until she gets to Snow, stopping to talk to him over the fence. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but my stomach churns. 

“Heard about Snow and Agatha?” asks Niall, apparently watching them too. 

“Sort of.”

“They’re together, as of yesterday. Davidson told me, he heard them talking.”

I watch Wellbelove and Snow chat, Snow leaning over the fence and grinning, Wellbelove pulling her silky blonde hair into a ponytail. They’re a picture-perfect couple, looking like they walked off the cover of a catalogue. I hate it. 

“I should go finish my homework,” I say, clapping Niall on the shoulder and turning to go. 

“What, already?” he asks.

“Yeah, I just needed a walk,” I call to him, hurrying away. “Hope the game’s good.” 

At the last second, Snow seems to notice me. His blue eyes lock on mine, and he lowers his eyebrows and bites his bottom lip, studying me. I feel my stomach twist again, and I shoot a glare his way before stalking off towards the catacombs. He’d better not follow me. 

 

Thankfully, I make it down the flights of old stone steps with no sign of Snow. I cradle a flame in my hands as I make my way deeper and deeper under the school, casting a flickering light over the dark walls. The air here is damp, stale, and cold, and it’s pitch dark. The catacombs never fail to remind me how close to death I really am. 

After I drink, I sit on the bottom step, letting the flame in my hands grow. No matter how much time I spend down here, hunting or wandering, I don’t think I’ll ever like it.  It’s too still, and I take the only living things to buy myself some more time, to hold off the hunger that rushes in. It’s like some kind of sick joke, marching down to this dead place so I can hold off death. 

At the same time, though, it’s a kind of peace I don’t get anywhere else. No one expects anything of me. Some part of me knows I probably belong here, in this half-alive space away from other people, where it’s safer for everyone. I can just sit and watch this fire burn, and for once, I’m the most alive person in the room. So sometimes I sit for a while. 

But not too long. I miss the light and the life. 

I think of Snow now, for some reason. Maybe the smell of my fire is reminding me of him. I wonder how he’d look down here. Sometimes it’s as if he glows, like the sun is running through his veins and lighting up his hair and his skin and his eyes. I wonder what he’d look like in total darkness. 

The thought of all that sun and life is depressing me, so I start making my way up the stairs again. I walk slowly to keep my fire from going out, still thinking about Snow, and now, Wellbelove. And the combination. Snow and Wellbelove. Together, apparently. 

I’m not sure why, but it bothers me. I should be happy about it – this means that Snow’s going to be occupied, and he’ll be trailing me less. I’m certainly not in love with Wellbelove. She’s objectively wonderful, but I’ve never been drawn to her. She’s perfectly welcome to date whoever she wants. And so is Snow.

Maybe I’m just in a mood because I’ll probably be alone forever, and my nemesis just got into a happy relationship with the best girl in school. That could make sense. 

But it doesn’t feel like that’s quite it.

I leave the building and come out into the twilight, crossing back towards Mummer’s house. The game must have ended recently; people are coming through the drawbridge from the football pitch in twos and threes. Just to make my day better, I spot Wellbelove and Snow walking ahead of me. Holding hands. My stomach sinks again. 

Snow’s already in our dorm when I get there, unbuttoning his uniform shirt. I walk behind him, looking at the floor. 

“Where’ve you been, Baz?” he asks, sliding his shirt off his thin, freckled shoulders. “Saw you slip away from the lacrosse match.”

“I went for a walk, Snow.”

“Must’ve been a long walk” he says, sliding on a T-shirt. 

“None of your business.”

He goes into the bathroom, and I glare at the door after he shuts it. He’s infuriating. I have a weird urge to ask him about Wellbelove, maybe a snide offhand comment, but it feels odd, for some reason. Like maybe love lives are off-limits. It’s ridiculous; nothing’s ever off-limits with us. Maybe father’s right, and I really am getting soft on people. 

The two of us mostly ignore each other for the rest of the night. Sometimes I glance over at where he’s working on the bed, and whenever I do, he’s looking back at me. His eyes locking on mine always make a chill run up my spine. I try to stop looking, but now that I know he’s staring at me, I can’t shake that prickling feeling of being watched. I’m dead tired, but I don’t want to have to close my eyes and not be able to see him staring.

Finally, he turns off his lamp and gets into bed. He’s certainly not asleep yet, but now it doesn’t feel weird to stop working. Once all my lights are out, I slide under the covers, sinking into the soft mattress. I stare at the ceiling until I hear Snow’s breathing even out. 

I roll over to study him now that I know he’s asleep. The soft light from the window lands on him. He’s facing me, his mess of curls resting on his pillow, moles scattered across his face and arms. His breathing is quiet and soft, his chest rising and falling gently. I get that same twisting feeling in my gut that I’ve been getting all day whenever I see him with Wellbelove, whenever we lock eyes.

And at some point, watching him there, I figure it out. 

I’m not completely sure when. It doesn’t hit me like a truck or fall on me like a ton of bricks. It’s not as if giant doors have suddenly swung open. It’s just a fact from the back of my mind that I suddenly find at the front, clear as day.

I love him. 

I’m in love with Simon Snow. 

This is bad. This is really, really not good. And there’s a lot of reasons for that, but my brain is too scattered for me to think of them all. I can’t analyze right now, I just know. 

I know that I love Simon. I know that I can’t love Simon. 

I lie awake, watching him, the ache in my stomach suddenly making sense. So does that burning feeling that comes with seeing him and Wellbelove together. What a perfect explanation, as if my life needed to be more fucked up. 

I fall asleep watching him. 

 

I wake up in the morning thinking about him. 

Fucking hell, is this going to be my life now? Is this going to be all that’s on my mind, now that I know it’s there? 

The bathroom door is closed and the light is on, so Snow must be in there. I stand up and change and run down to breakfast so I don’t have to see him right away. 

I can’t forget it. It’s too obvious now, the way I feel about him. I can try, though. I want to pretend I completely hate him, no strings attached, and carry on the way we always have. 

I mean, that’s my second choice. My first is something along the lines of him confessing his love for me, admitting that he’s never wanted me dead, and maybe also being able to kiss that mole on his cheekbone. But I can’t think about that. I’m not stupid; I know full well it can’t happen like that. We’re enemies, since the day we met and until the day we die, quite possibly at the hands of the other. 

As I’m lost in thought, Snow comes into the dining hall. Holding hands with Wellbelove, laughing at something she said. His eyes find mine as soon as he walks in, and I meet them, staring coldly back at him. I still hate those eyes. Maybe I just hate that I love them. 

I stand up as he passes me on his way to the food table. He’s not with Wellbelove now. 

“Going somewhere, Baz?” he asks, glancing at me.

“Why do you care, Snow?”

He scans me up and down and shrugs. “It can’t hurt to know.”

_ It sure as hell can hurt me.  _

“Well, I’m going to Latin, if you must know,” I say flatly, swinging my bag over one shoulder. “Do you feel safe and happy now?”

“Don’t blame me for being careful, you’ve tried to kill me twice.”

I’m too exhausted to argue, so I just glare at him, trying to put as much disgust into my gaze as I can and leave the room. 

The days crawl on, and I try to push Snow away, push my realization back into my subconscious. It doesn’t work. I try to avoid him. It doesn’t work. Sometimes I try to cut back on the open hostility, but that only makes me feel worse. It’s going to be a long year of him trailing me, watching me, keeping me close. It’s torture. 

But sometimes, because, well, I’m a vampire, and I might as well fit the stereotype – sometimes I still watch him at night, when he falls asleep facing me, looking calm and beautiful. And if it’s late enough at night, even though I know it’s idiotic and useless... I let myself hope. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that was good :) Comments/kudos/feedback give me life, so if you want to do that, I will love you forever. I'll probably be posting more stuff for the countdown on here and on my tumblr (simon-snowman) so check that out if ya feel like it. Thanks so much for reading!


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